


Midnight Confessions

by Candy_A



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: M/M, Series: New Beginnings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 04:37:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/794036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Candy_A/pseuds/Candy_A
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim sits a vigil at his partner's bedside.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Midnight Confessions

**Author's Note:**

> No sex, just a little smarm. This may be the start of a series. I had to do something with the season finale. SPOILERS FOR SENTINEL TOO LIE AHEAD, SO BEWARE...

## Midnight Confessions

by Candy Apple

Author's disclaimer: UPN and Pet Fly own the guys and The Sentinel. No money being made--at least not by me. :-)

* * *

Midnight Confessions  
by Candy Apple 

Jim looked up at the monitor next to the bed for the tenth time in as many minutes. He didn't need the electronic equipment to track Blair's heartbeat or his pulse. Jim's own heightened senses were tracing every rise and fall of his guide's chest, every breath, every thump of his pulse and beat of his heart. 

The only thing he couldn't effectively monitor was the brain activity. Neither Jim nor all the hospital's state of the art equipment could guarantee that when, if, those big blue eyes ever opened again, there would be the same brilliance and alertness shining behind them. 

Jim had insisted on keeping up the CPR at the scene, and when Simon had pulled him away, he'd struggled until he was free again to keep trying. In those last moments, he had felt a flutter of Blair's heart...a tiny, subtle response that might have been missed by the standard equipment. When the stunned EMT's found the man they'd given up for dead was breathing, all the efforts to preserve Blair's life kicked into high gear, and he was rushed to the hospital. 

Now he was lying there, white as the bedclothes, with the shocking contrast of his dark brown curls and eyelashes the only deviance from the colorlessness. The doctor said there was most definitely brain activity, but whether or not the prolonged absence of oxygen had caused brain damage would not be known until Blair came to. If he came to at all. 

It had been three days since they'd found him in the fountain, and in the eerie stillness that had settled over this particular wing of the hospital with the coming of midnight, Jim continued his vigil at his partner's bedside. The thoughts that haunted him now were his worst enemies; his thoughts and the passage of time as Blair remained in a coma. 

//What if I called you back to be a vegetable? What if I called you back to lie in a bed and stare into space while the drool dribbles out of your mouth? What if you're nothing better than an incoherent, mindless soul that sits listlessly in a chair all day?// Jim took a hold of one of the cool hands and held it tightly in both of his. Blair's hands were smaller, but they were strong, capable hands. They were usually in motion, flying around as Blair spoke, carrying on a non-verbal conversation of their own. Now the hand just felt small and frail and cold. 

"I wish I could sit here and pray that you would only come back if you can be whole. I know you'll be miserable if you come back to some...some half-life of sitting in a corner without the ability to string two thoughts together. But honestly, Chief, I want you back. And I want whatever I can have back. Oh, God, I don't know how to even start to apologize to you for this. I was afraid for you...I thought if you were with me, you'd be in danger. I opened the door on you that night and almost blew you away by mistake. Between that and the dream, I was sure that I was going to somehow cause your death." Jim looked down at the hand he was holding, and kissed the top of it. 

"Are you ever going to be able to forgive me? I wouldn't blame you if you didn't. Why should you? You have to know that packing up your things was the hardest thing I ever did. That and telling you to leave. I was so sure it was for the best. And I ended up putting you in harm's way by sending you off alone." Jim moved one hand to stroke Blair's cool face, letting his hand come to rest in the pile of soft curls on the pillow. 

"This whole dissertation thing has been hard for me. Maybe it's because I see you in your element at the University, and I wonder how much longer we'll even be together. You're going to outgrow this...this hanging around with cops. You have better things to do. I admit I don't want everyone to know everything about me. I know that was my half of the deal, but it hurt that things I told you...confided to you...showed up there. Not in so many words--you didn't ever write anything specific. But your conclusions were based on some things I shared with you that I've never shared with anyone else. That I never will share again with anyone but you. I felt like you used my trust in you to get a better paper. I know you didn't mean it that way. You thought I was okay with you studying me and writing about it. So you did it." Jim pulled the limp hand up to rest his cheek against it. 

"It all looks so petty and minor now. In a horrible way, losing you would mean I 'got what I wanted'. I silenced your dissertation. I can tear up your notes or burn your tapes and no one will ever know." Jim sighed, not even bothering to wipe away the tear that was escaping the corner of his eye. "But right now, I would go before every dissertation committee on the planet, go on 'Oprah' if that's what you wanted, or travel around with you and be some kind of...of circus freak if that's what it took to bring you back. Nothing I have is worth anything without you, Blair. When I saw you in that fountain, I realized that. I realized that the most important thing in my world was you. The center of it." Jim moved to sit on the edge of the bed, then leaned forward until his cheek rested against Blair's. He breathed in deeply, taking in the living scent of the still form in the bed. 

"I love you, Chief. Don't you dare leave me now. I don't deserve to have you back, but if you leave now, I swear to God I'll be right behind you only by as long as it takes me to get the barrel of the gun in my mouth. You have to live, because if you don't, I can't either." 

There was a little change in Blair's heartbeat. It was subtle, barely noticeable. The man who had been monitoring it so carefully didn't notice as he fought with the emotions that were welling up, and the tears that fell into the silky curls under his face. It wasn't until the limp hand he still held flexed a bit that Jim shot upright and stared at his motionless partner with a startled expression. The had wriggled a bit again, and flexed its fingers. Jim realized he had a death grip on the poor extremity, and finally loosened his hold slightly, kissing the tops of Blair's fingers without even thinking about what he was doing. 

"Blair?" Jim sniffled a little and stroked Blair's cheek with his free hand. "Come on, Chief. I felt you move your hand. I know you can hear me." Jim watched, his own breath hovering in his lungs waiting to be expelled. 

The dark lashes fluttered against the ashen cheeks, and in a moment, two very tired eyes gazed up at Jim. 

"Blair--do you know who I am--where you are?" Jim asked anxiously, knowing there was probably a much better way to ask these questions, and that Blair should probably be treated in a much calmer manner, but he couldn't help it. This was too vital. 

"Jim," Blair responded, glancing around, then looking back into Jim's eyes. "Hospital," he added. 

"Do you remember what happened, Chief?" 

"Alex...you've gotta...catch her..." 

"We did, baby. Yesterday." Jim didn't bother to correct the endearment that slipped out. At this point it was all he could do not to swoop down and claim the slightly parted lips. Instead, he stroked Blair's hair gently. 

"Are you still mad at me?" Blair managed, his voice strained, his fatigue obvious. 

"No! I was upset...about a lot of things I should have talked out with you. I was afraid for you...and then the whole thing with Alex and finding out about her--" 

"And I didn't tell you...betrayed you..." Blair offered weakly. 

"I listened to some of your tapes. I know I shouldn't have, but I wanted to understand. I wanted to know why you didn't tell me. Now I think I understand." Jim reached up to catch a tear that slid out of the corner of Blair's eye. "What's wrong, Chief? Are you in pain?" "I want to go home." 

"The doctor said--" 

"No...I mean...I want to go _home_." Blair made what appeared to be a monumental effort to squeeze the larger man's hand fimly. "Can I come home? I won't write any more about you. It's not worth the price anymore," Blair concluded, his voice weak and his chest heaving with the effort of talking. 

"Your stuff's already back at the loft. As soon as the doc gives you the green light, I'll take you home. And you moving back in isn't conditional on the basis of you not writing about me. I don't want to ruin your career, Chief." 

"I love you, too," Blair said softly, making Jim realize that the younger man had heard most of his bedside professions of love and guilt and longing. "Don't ever...hurt yourself...because of...me. Please...promise me?" 

Jim leaned forward and let his lips rest lightly against Blair's, stealing the softest of kisses. 

"I don't have to promise anything, because you're going to be just fine now. We'll work everything out together." 

"Yeah...together," Blair murmured as he drifted off again, this time into a normal sleep pattern. A little smile curved his lips, and Jim kissed the smooth forehead softly. 

As he watched Blair sleep, he knew their relationship still needed some rebuilding, and that the new feelings that stirred in him when he kissed the other man's pliant lips would somehow have to be confronted when Blair was feeling better. 

"Jim." It was a bare whisper, more like a breath that formed a word as Blair shifted a little in the bed. Jim smiled at the sleeping form in the bed who still held his hand, and wondered what he had done in his life so right that God had seen fit to grant him such a miracle. 

And he resolved to be worthy of the gift. 

The End...for now ;-) 


End file.
